UNEATEN FRUIT

From the unread book 
I look back at three generations, with 
whom I was fighting 
for a staircase, which did not 
take me anywhere. 

It was an edge over the wisdom 
for footfalls in space 
for an apology for an unknown warrior 
waiting of a midnight sun 
for a foretaste of time. 

I do not want you to come 
as a pawnbroker, 
I have nothing to offer for exchange. 
From my grandfather I got his shoes, 
my father gave me his eyes. 

Still I am groping in dark 
to justify the everlasting sky 
full of needles.

Satish Verma